


On the Rocks

by schmidtys



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Washington Capitals, just a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmidtys/pseuds/schmidtys
Summary: Mornings with Alex felt gloriously indulgent. The easiness, blurred boundaries and someone to spend it with.They would need to discuss the future of their relationship sooner or later for Nicky’s peace of mind but the looming conversation doesn’t stop him from enjoying the moment.





	On the Rocks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad to finally publish this after it sat in my drafts for just over a year. This couldn't have been finished without my good friend Jayce, check him out at alexanderovi (on tumblr)! This fic begins on December 30th of the Capitals 2015-2016 season.

The hit is routine enough. 

The play moved down to the Sabres’ end with Nicklas at the head of the pack. He’s skating along the edge of the boards, moving upon the puck and attempting to smack it backwards towards TJ. As Nicky turns and slides the puck around, Ristolainen slams into his front, unable to stop his momentum moving forward. Nicky sees him coming, but can’t react fast enough to brace himself.

As Ristolainen hits him, his head whips back and strikes the glass with considerable force. Nicky’s left arm also ends up pinned between his opponent's body and the glass, twisting his wrist and causing a shock of pain that moves from his wrist to his elbow.

Once the play continues up the ice, Nicky is free from the boards, skating almost casually back to the bench to switch out. He drops between Marcus and Karl, shakes off his gloves, and attempts to get his bearings after the hit to his head. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles, his head pounding. His left wrist distantly throbs alongside his pulse. 

Someone taps his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head from his hands. When did the one of the trainers get here? Nicky turns to find Trotz behind him. Coach throws him a stern look and gives a nod towards the tunnel. Nicky follows his orders and stands to make his way towards the locker room as if on autopilot.

As he shimmies down the bench and in front of the guys, he receives a butt pat from Andre and a couple reassurances from the team. In a different scenario he would acknowledge them, give them a nod or a short response, but Nicky’s focused on staying steady on his feet. Thankfully, he makes his way to the tunnel and enters the locker room.

He’s met with one of the athletic trainers, Ben, if he remembers correctly. He leads Nicky to take a seat in front of his stall, but he shoos Ben away when he asks if he needs assistance with his gear. Despite the thrumming that’s clouded his thoughts, his dignity is still intact. Once his gear is removed, Ben starts talking to Nicky at a moderate pace.

“Alright Nicklas, you took one pretty hard to the boards so I’m gonna check your eyes for any symptoms of a concussion, alright?” 

“Okay,” Nicky replies. He’s fairly sure it’s not a concussion but cooperates nonetheless. Nicky’s thoroughly done with concussions, having his fair share and enough to remember for a lifetime. More importantly, he just hopes his wrist hasn’t been injured too badly. The loss of Orpik early on in the season and more recently, Carlson, has left the Caps wary of any small injury. Nicky suddenly snaps to attention remembering how Jay wasn’t on the bench either.

Before Ben can shine the penlight into his eyes he says, “Hey, uh, where’s Beags?”

Ben gives him a noncommittal gesture, “Greg’s working on him right now in the med room. From what I got to see his wrist isn’t looking too pretty.”

Nicky sobers at this and stills so Ben can do his job, opening his eyes and obediently staring into the light. Ben soon turns it off with a click and pats Nicky on the shoulder.

“Eyes are dilating normally and your speech is normal- how does your head feel? Any dizziness?”

Nicky nods and slowly recalls the hit to the best of his abilities. Less enthusiastically, he admits that his head is killing him and that his wrist feels even worse.

Ben nods solemnly. “Hey, no sweat, I’m going to take a look at your head for any bad contusions and then wrap your wrist, ok?”

Nicky nods and sighs as Ben walks away.

\-----

By the time the second period is over, Jay has received his prognosis and plunks down into the stall next to Nicky. They’re both sporting matching wrist wraps, while Nicky is holding an icepack to his head with his free hand. His eyes are still watering from Ben wrapping up his wrist minutes earlier. They bend their heads together, making small talk and observations from the game.

The air is somber once the team enters the room after the 2nd period ends, Nicky is reminded of the current score. It certainly doesn’t help that two of their valuable forwards are injured. The pounding in Nicky’s head persists and he’s quietly thankful for the lack of chatter in the locker room. A majority of the intermission consists of Trotz and Forsythe reminding the team what they’re good at and where they need to pick it up. The team soaks in the advice and everyone goes through their own rituals in preparation for the final period.

There is a couple minutes before the third period starts where a couple of the guys come over to check up on Jay and Nicky. Chimmers and Tom visit Jay to see how their linemate is doing, grimacing when they hear his likely predicament.

Tom slaps Jays’ back in an effort to cheer him up. “This next period is for you man, we’re gonna fuckin’ destroy it, eh?”

Jay smirks at the effort. After Chimmers and Tom leave, Nicky catches Alex’s eye from across the room. His captain is frowning, making his way to Nicky once their eyes meet. 

Jay mumbles something about having to take a piss as Alex approaches. He gets up and presumably heads for the men’s room, leaving Nicky and Alex alone. Nicky reminds himself to thank him later for giving them some privacy. Alex slowly sits on the bench to Nicky’s left, taking his wrapped wrist into his big hands. A sly grin adorns his features but Nicky knows better. He sees Alex’s dark, concerned eyes for what they are. 

Alex shakes his head, tsking all the while, “Just could not help yourself.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Nicky smiles tiredly. His head was still hurting but it subsides in Alex’s comforting presence. 

“I’ll believe it when I see,” Alex chirps while he places the Nicky’s wrapped wrist onto his lap. 

“I’m serious. No concussion, just twisted my wrist a little.”

Nicky decides to leave out the splitting headache. Alex will get to hover over him later.

The tension in Alex’s shoulders give a little, Nicky’s words at least subduing him for now. He knows Alex would enjoy hovering even further but stopped himself in favor of keeping his head in the game. Alex leans against the wood of the lockers and slings his arm around Nicky who unhesitatingly drops his head onto his shoulder. 

\-----

The next couple of hours go by quickly. After the third, the team storms into the lockers, high off the win. Nicky receives final instructions from medical to ice his head, elevate his wrist, and chug water. Everyone boards the bus and not long after they’re en route to the airport. The constant commotion during the drive leaves Nicky feeling nauseated and praying for relief. Someone plays a 2006 throwback playlist on full volume before Chimmers sits on their phone to muffle the chorus of “Irreplaceable.”  
Nicky thinks distantly.

Before long, they’re getting off the bus and boarding the plane for Carolina. Nicky lands a seat on the left side and towards the back of the plane. Thankfully for Nicky, whoever was blasting their music earlier appeared to have found their headphones for the flight. Although the distant sound of another Beyonce song could still be heard, it was a relief to have some semblance of quiet.

The perks of having back to back games is everyone’s more obligated to sleep than chat with an injured teammate. Nicky settles down in his window seat and cozies up in his insulated hoodie and the black beanie he hastily tugged on earlier. Before forgetting, he dutifully makes sure his wrist is elevated as comfortably as possible. An underlying feeling of anxiety rolls around in Nicky’s stomach as his wrist is still in the same degree of pain since he had left the rink.

He thinks twice before checking his phone. The ache behind his temples slipping from bearable to excruciatingly light sensitive. His best bet is to keep his eyes closed and hope for sleep. 

As Nicky’s dozes, he picks up someone padding down the aisle to the back of the plane. Not caring to open his eyes, Nicky just waits for the person to address him. Seconds later the person eases their way into the seat adjacent to Nicky’s. They use extra effort to keep the seat from jostling. The tension in his shoulders slowly seeps away and he opens his eyes to slits that meet Alex’s gaze.

“So sleepy so soon? Was going to tell you how I got two goals for you,” Alex chimes in good nature.

“I would like to hear about them, Alex. My head hurts now so maybe tomorrow,” Nicky murmurs, hoping Alex will spare him. He doesn’t have the energy to entertain him right now.

“Oh. Ok. I didn’t know your head hurt,” Alex replies softer than before.

“Not your fault.” Nicky shrugs weakly. If it was any other time Nicky would be matching Alex chirp for chirp but his head wasn’t having it.

Alex makes a displeased noise before laying his arm around Nicky’s neck with care. He slowly pulls Nicky closer and soon they’re leaning against each other with Nicky’s head tucked under Alex’s scruffy chin. If Nicky had the energy he would scold Alex about how much he looks like a caveman with his unkempt beard. It would have to wait.

“You cold?”

“...Ya,” Nicky says. The cold hadn’t quite escaped Nicky despite his thick hoodie and beanie. Alex reaches below the seat to retrieve the caps throw he’d gifted Nicky before the short break. He’d given TJ a matching one as a joint Christmas-birthday gift. Linesman gifts were commonplace for Alex.

Nicky burrows back into Alex’s side as his back returns to his seat. Alex tucks the blanket around them, dropping a soft kiss to the crown of Nicky’s forehead. As his body warms up, it feels as if Nicky sinks into Alex’s side even more comfortably. 

“You’ll be fine tomorrow.” Alex mumbles solemnly.

“Ok.” 

Surprisingly soon, Nicky’s on the edge of consciousness and he let’s his eyes blink closed. He exists in a space of warmth accented with Alex’s distinct cologne he wears liberally. Before sleep overtakes him, Nicky feels the tapping of fingers onto his forearm under blanket, the humming of familiar lyrics vibrating in Alex’s chest. Nicky can’t quite remember the name of the song but it's on the tip of his tongue. He catches bits and pieces of the song before he finally drops off. 

\-----

An insistent poking in his sides rouses Nicky from his short sleep. He rubs at his eyes groggily and reaches blindly to the left. Another hand warmly grasps his accompanied by a familiar voice murmuring sing-song like.

“Wakey wakey, Солнышко.”

“Five more minutes,”

“I’m not your mother.” Alex sniffs.

“Whatever you say.” Nicky smirks at him.

The kind of relationship Nicky and Alex has going on is more or less casual. It was familiar, a constant that had started from just after they started playing together. Why fix something if it isn’t broken, right? Venturing out of their easy comfort zone, Nicky had been wondering if it would be safe to put whatever they had into words. He wanted to make it official. Of course Alex always poked at Nicky with pet names and suggestive innuendo but they’d yet to exchange anything more than careful, timed pecks to the cheek. What stopped Nicky from making anything serious was the nagging fear Alex wouldn’t reciprocate. It seemed silly considering Alex’s personality and Nicky’s intuition but he wasn’t quite ready to put everything on the line. Especially not at such a crucial time during the middle of the season.

After mentally preparing himself, Nicky dreadfully opens his eyes and sits up in his seat. He retrieves his hand from Alex, reaching his hands skyward and arching his back to stretch properly. He sighs at the noticeably absent thrumming in his head. His wrist aches albeit not nearly as bad as last night. Nicky almost smiles.

“Get your stuff together we’re leaving in a minute. You know the drill,”

Nicky nods and gathers his blanket and earbuds then stuffs them into his carry on.  
It’s 1am and there’s only so much time until they have to prepare for their next game but somehow Nicky manages to keep his characteristic calm. The soreness in his wrist as opposed to blunt pain is particularly mollifying and the buzzing beneath Nicky’s skin quiets to a murmur.

The team vacates the plane and they all board the bus to get to their hotel. Once they arrive everyone disperses to their assigned rooms, luggage in tow. Alex and Nicky collapse onto the twin bed closest to the door, dead on their feet. They lay down, Nicky on his right side and Alex on his left, faces close with Alex’s arm encircling the blonde’s shoulder. Nicky’s grateful for what they do share but something about the tentative way Alex holds him makes Nicky wish he could share moments like this without doubt. The quiet of the hotel room accompanied by Alex’s even breathing is enough to put Nicky just on the edge of sleep. The familiar tune of a the song Alex hummed earlier stays on Nicky’s mind and eventually lulls him to sleep.

\-----

He wakes up to his phone blaring a swedish house song from his favorite workout playlist. After he still hasn’t reached for his phone a minute later, something shifts underneath him. An arm lifts from the small of Nicky’s back and strains for the phone on the bedside table. Nicky sighs, lifts his head from Alex’s chest, and lazily taps at his phone screen until the insistent bass stops.

“Why do you have bad music taste so early in th’ morning?” 

A pillow collides with Alex’s face in reply. Nicky reluctantly peels himself from the warmth of Alex’s arms and heads for the bathroom to wash up. The two players begin their morning routine, winding in and out of each other’s paths to mix coffee or lay out their game day suit for later. Nicky’s sitting on the side of their bed fiddling with his socks when a hand clasps his right shoulder and lingers. Nicky’s head turns curiously and to meet Alex’s soft gaze. Tightness grasps at his chest he can’t help but breathlessly smile at the familiarity in his eyes. Alex is holding a hairbrush in his other hand. 

Mornings with Alex felt gloriously indulgent. The easiness, blurred boundaries and someone to spend it with. Labels were needless as times like this. They would need to discuss the future of their relationship sooner or later for Nicky’s peace of mind but the looming conversation doesn’t stop him from enjoying the moment. 

Nicky nods understandingly and settles himself on the edge of the bed while Alex perches himself behind him. A brush, gentle as ever, migrates from Nicky’s scalp to the tips of his hair. It’s impossible for his eyes to stay open at the pleasurable sensation. A couple times, Nicky had offered to brush Alex’s hair in return but he’d always politely refused. Alex’s obligation to brush Nicky’s blonde locks went unquestioned from the beginning. Nicky basked in the unspoken affection of the act.

Time carries on at a glacial pace, Nicky enamoured with the feeling the bristles lovingly brushing his scalp. The sun soon peeks through the curtains causing Alex to pull away the brush all too soon, promptly tucking Nicky’s hair behind his ears with care. Nicky huffs at the sentiment. 

He continues getting bundled up for the biting weather outside. The nagging urgency to talk with Alex begins eating at Nicky once more as he pulls on his toque and zips his thermal sweatshirt. Before he can get the better of himself, Nicky turns to Alex who’s currently toeing his sneakers on.

“Do you think we could talk about something, maybe before the game?” Alex, pulling on a zip-up hoodie, glances at the blonde questioningly. 

“We’re good, no?” Alex questions. His eyebrows raise in concern.

“It’s not something bad if that’s what you think,” Nicky reassures, turning away and busying his hands with his winter clothes to calm his nerves.

Alex nods decisively before speaking up “I trust you, you better not give me a heart attack before tonight though.” Nicky scrunches his nose.

“It won’t be like that. Now you’ll just have a heart attack to spite me,”

Alex narrows his eyes, cracks a wide smile, and begins tying his shoes.

\-----

They make it to the rink with a second cup of coffee in hand, Nicky persuading Alex to stop at starbucks “for the love of everything holy”. Alex had kept his fingers intertwined with Nicky’s the entire ride. Hand holding usually made Nicky antsy but the heat of Alex’s hands tempted his cold hands otherwise.

All the guys are congregating in the coaches room where a projector is set up and ready to review video of carolina gameplay. Before Nicky can sit with the guys, Greg taps on Nicky’s shoulder.

“Hey, let me check you out before you get comfortable.”

He follows the him to the joint equipment-medical room in use by their staff. When he woke up this morning, his wrist was barely in pain and only protested at the turn of his forearm. A couple of Motrins later, his wrist was on the back burner of his mind. Greg sits him down in a chair before he starts asking questions about the state of his injuries. Nicky tells him truthfully that his head is feeling fine and his wrist aches but is game ready. With that Greg nods his head, “You're certain your wrist is ready for gameplay? We don’t want you to prolong a minor injury that just needs rest,”

Nicky stomach flips at his questioning but stands his ground. “Yeah, I’ll be ok to play, I just need to warm up the muscles before I get out there.” Nicky quietly explains.

“I trust you Nicky, I just want you to stay in shape long term. You should get back to the guys now, you look good to go.”

Nicky thanks the trainer and slips back into the coaches room where Forsythe is on tangent concerning Carolina’s something or other. From the ground, Orly glances at Nicky and pats the ground next to him. Nicky slides next to him quietly, not wanting to interrupt Coach. Thoughts bombard Nicky the entire video session. Between his wrist and hesitant relationship with Alex, Nicky could care less about the importance of the backcheck.

\-----

Trotz announces optional morning skate. Everyone lets out a collective sigh, skating or training on game day was much more relaxing without the assault of tiring drills that came with a regular practice. A majority of the guys head to the gym to get some work in before game time, the remainder pulls on their pads and heads for the ice. Nicky considers going to the gym with Marcus but decides he should test the waters with his wrist. He pulls on his gear, smooths his hair back, and pokes Andre with his stick on the way out to the rink entrance. 

To his relief, Alex is already on the ice taking warmup laps with Galiev. Nicky steps into the rink and skates to the middle of the ice to stretch his legs before starting up his pregame routine. By the time Nicky’s legs are stretched warmly, it’s Alex, Galiev, Carlson, Karl and Grubi in the rink.

Nicky laps the rink a couple times before working a hands drill and testing the waters. His wrist only stiffens up when held taught in the same position for long enough which, considering the circumstances, is great news. In all his years as an NHL player, Nicky figured out when it was and wasn’t a good time to take extra precaution and this wasn’t the time. The ache would be gone before weeks end. Probably. He continues to weave in and around some scattered pucks until Carlson shouts his name and motions him over to the end of the rink where all the guys are standing. Nicky makes his way over, slapping a couple pucks down the ice as he approaches.

“Blue line scrimmage with Grubi? If you’re not down no worries.” Carlson tilts his head at him sincerely.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s go.”

In the matter of a minute, Alex, Nicky, and Galiev are converging on the goal and trying to keep away from the defensemen. Karl blocks every valid attempt and crowds them on the boards while Carlson smacks the puck away. Both lines are at a standstill until Nicky slaps the puck around the curve right to Alex where he lifts the puck sideways behind Grubi's shoulder. Galiev yells enthusiastically and Alex raises his arms, waving as if the stadium is booming with applause. Nicky glides over and clocks his shoulder before they all resume once more.

This feels good. Really good. Nicky and Alex are telepathic on the ice per usual, making all the passes and shots at the right times. Still, Karl and Carlson are top line defenseman for a reason and they give the offense a run for their money. It continues on for a while, working the puck around the net, testing Grubi’s reaction time, trying out new plays. It only takes ten more minutes for Nicky’s luck to run dry.

Off the dot, Nicky slaps the puck to Galiev on the left side of the blue line. Galiev idles with the puck and then passes it to Alex, who fakes dramatically. Carlson anticipates this from a mile away and crowds Nicky who’s stationed in front of Grubi. With the puck already halfway to Nicky from Alex’s tape, he shoves at Carlson in an attempt to reach the incoming puck. Unexpectedly, Carlson tangles his legs up in the process and grasps at nothing before falling backwards onto Nicky like a domino. 

Nicky’s gut twists as he’s pulled down to the ice with his teammate. In a matter of seconds, Carlson’s back lands on the entirety of Nicky’s left side with his arm taking the brunt of the force. He feels a white hot pain in his left wrist the moment his arm gets pinned between Carlson and the ice. Their helmets clunk loudly together as they settle on the ice in an ungraceful heap.

Nicky absently groans underneath Carlson. The defenseman struggles to his elbows and pushes himself up into a sitting position. Meanwhile, Nicky holds his breath as he slowly turns on his stomach and props himself up on his right arm. Carefully, he slides his wrist under his drooping head and scrutinizes his pinkish limb. His eyes find two freckles on his left wrist and he stares at them as he lets out his breath in a long,shaky breath. Evidently finding nothing of worth, he rests his head in the crook of his right arm.

“Hey bud, you ok?” 

Distantly, Nicky can hear Carlson slide beside him. The clunky material of Carlson’s glove finds itself on Nicky’s shoulder blade. The weight of his hand brings him back to earth and a throb in his wrist loudly makes itself known. Nobody knows Nicky’s body better than him and he knows that  
but. There’s no explanation for the tightness in his chest and the insistent fear in his head. 

Nicky shifts uncomfortably but nods in response, not prepared to reply verbally. His breaths echo in his head and his stomach clenches further. Through the pain, Nicky is aware he’s probably causing a scene.

It takes some time, but he works out his breathing and pushes down the panic rising in his system. Alex’s hand had replaced Carlson’s and was moving in circles on his back. Russian murmuring surfaces in his consciousness and it motivates him to move. Nicky pushes himself to his knees, he can’t help but let his face contort as he tests some weight on his wrist.  
he repeats to himself. Following the initial piercing pain, it’s just ached and ached. Arms on his shoulders help him on his feet and steady his skates. Nicky’s eyes look up to meet Alex's wide eyes.

“What hurts? You dizzy?” Alex asks concerned.

“Not my head,” Nicky quietly says, dazed. The sounds of the rink come back to him slowly and he processes the scratch of skates on ice near him. Nicky’s cheeks grow red hot and he dips his head to his chest. Screw the ache in his arm and the tightness in his chest, he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Karl, Galiev, and Carlson mull around behind Nicky and Alex. Grubi joins the three when he sees Nicky begin skating for the entrance to the rink. Concern apparent in their eyes, they exchange a few worried glances as the two slowly approach to boards to exit. Galiev makes to join Alex and Nicky but Grubi pokes the russian’s ribs to stop him. The goalie begins pushing all the nearby pucks into the net so they can collect them. Carlson and Galiev slowly make it to the other end of the rink to collect the rest.

As Alex and Nicky skate leisurely to the exit, a hand slips from the latter’s shoulder to his lower back. Nicky glances at his captain and finds his features unusually somber. 

“If my wrist’s how I think it is, I just need some ice and some motrin. Don’t worry over me,” 

“I worry.” Alex states plainly.

Nicky frowns and continues down the tunnel.

\-----

The radio is playing a CD Alex had popped in. Before long Nicky recognizes it as the mixtape Mike had gifted to him for Christmas. Mike claimed “he needed something that wasn’t annoying european house” and to “trust him, this one’s a fuckin’ bop”. Recently lit street lamps pass by in blurs of light as the soft lull of an acoustic guitar accompanies a sincere voice. The song fades into a light hearted anthem carried by a dipping male voice and synthesizers. The CD’s takes him by surprise, not exactly what he was expecting of Mike’s music taste.

“It’s getting darker earlier and earlier,” Nicky says quietly. Alex hums in response and squeezes his right hand that loosely enfolds Nicky’s sore hand. The weight of Alex’s hand always felt balancing, Nicky’s often clammy hands pleasantly counteracting the furnace-like heat of Alex’s. 

Nicky had immediately marched to the trainer’s who were preparing for the game in a couple of hours. By the time they’d reached the room Nicky’s wrist had declined from a numb, white ache to a pulsing soreness. He told Greg what had happened on the ice and emphasized how it was already feeling better.

Greg and Alex weren’t so convinced by Nicky’s hiss when the trainer tugged his wrist. Greg called over the team masseuse who sat Nicky down and methodically massaged his wrist until it hurt pleasantly rather than painfully. They’d packed up and decided to head to the hotel early to get ready, no point in aggravating his wrist further. Trotz had told the media scrum that he was a game time decision.

Nicky huffs as they arrive in the parking garage of their hotel. Alex parks the car, unbuckles his seatbelt, and turns to him hesitantly. 

“Tell me you won’t play if you are hurt.”

Nicky chews on his lip, “I’ll be good by game time Alex. Hockey’s a physical sport, you know.”

Alex raises his hands defensively, “Caring too much is no problem, caring too little is no good.” Nicky’s initially annoyed at Alex’s persistent coddling but knows that it’s only because he cares.

“I don’t want to distract you, ok? Not on new year’s eve at most,” Nicky tells him earnestly. 

Alex slumps in his seat, the fight leaving his system. The captain in him combined with turbulent feelings for Nicky had left him in a rut. Alex puts his hand on his door and makes to get out before he stops, something dawning on his face.

“You said you wanted to talk earlier?”

Nicky internally deflates. He very well remembers what he said to Alex but after the drama he’d caused today he’s not particularly fond of possibly making everything worse.

“...after the game?” Nicky manages straight faced, his calm facade covering the buzzing anxiety beneath his skin.

Alex nods his head neutrally and jumps out of the car. He waits for Nicky to join him, bumps shoulders with the blonde, and they start walking for the elevators. 

\------

The locker room buzzes once more, skates being laced, gatorade chugged, and talk of partying exchanged. As much as the team would like to say they’re focused on the game at hand, it  
new year’s eve and even the veterans unanimously discuss how fast Tom’s liver is going to give out. 

Nicky thinks he’s a pretty well-rounded guy. He enjoys a good house party, attending his fair share of ragers back in highschool. Tom and Mike had sent a group text earlier that welcomed anyone to a party at one of their friend’s houses. They implied the house was huge and there would be “a shit load of booze”.

Nicky hadn’t replied, waiting to see how he felt after the game to confirm his status. He had been hoping that wherever he ended up going he’d be with Alex but everything is up in the air at this point. Who knew where the night was going to go?

Alex saunters up to Nicky who currently is struggling to pull his jersey over his back pads. His hand scrabbles in the middle of his back as he fruitlessly grabs for his jersey. 

“Need a little help there?” Alex puts one hand on Nicky’s shoulder and uses the other to tug the jersey over his pads. Nicky wants to grumble but an exasperated grin falls onto his face. 

“No, I’m playing like this you dumbass,” he mocks and turns to face Alex.

Alex scrunches his nose in distaste, a smile reaching his mouth; “I hope you can pass with with your ass backwards.”

“You know he can!” Carlson shouts from the end of the room. Nicky openly laughs as Alex points his finger at Carlson accusingly and storms in his direction to pester him accordingly. In the meantime, Nicky fully suits up and in no time the entire team is preparing to hit the ice. Trotz calls their attention from the center of the room and delivers a rallying pregame speech with all the works. He ends with a flourish;

“Let’s keep the puck longer and in their zone; let’s keep up the momentum. Because you know what? 10 wins is a hell of lot better than 9.”

Sticks tap and voices raise in response to Trotz’s finishing words. Nicky can feel the easiness of the atmosphere as well as the excitement. These are his favorite types of games in all honestly; games where he can relax and let his best hockey come to him. Of course, he gives 100% in every game he plays but matches like this give him an easiness that matches his outward mask of calm. Nicky always observed that looking calm is not the same as being calm and when he was relaxed through and through, that’s when his best hockey came to him.

The team lines up to walk down onto the ice, plenty of shoving accompanying the second and third line. Alex sidles up alongside Nicky towards the back of the crowd of players. The butt end of Alex’s stick prods his right forearm, his eyebrows raised inquisitively. Nicky wants to scream but instead he hits Alex with his sore wrist to get his final point across

“That’s more like it.” 

Nicky groans aloud and walks down the tunnel with his captain by his side.

\-----

Nicky falls into a seat on the team bus with a bark of a laugh. Marcus is finishing a joke about russians while Kuzy laughs and helplessly defends his countrymen. He carries on listening to Marcus’s teasing while he situates himself in an aisle seat with the other swede and Kuzy across from him. The lull of a rhythmic song filters down the aisle, an androgynous voice lilting a meaningful chorus. The nature of the song provides the bus with a mellow,relaxed atmosphere. Insistent chirping from Chimmers and Tom suggests that it’s almost certainly coming from one young centerman in particular.

Two claps and a loud whistle from the head of the bus cause most of the chatting to cease and all eyes to rest on the speaker. Alex is standing up front with a smile plastered on his face. He comically clears his throat and lifts his voice for the team.

“Tonight was not the best game, not good enough to keep our streak.” The bus hushes even more, everyone already aware of the broken streak. “I won’t say we did our best and we didn’t, Grubi kept us in the game at all.” A few broken whoops sound and Galiev pokes Grubi in the ribs with a smile.

“What’s important now is that game is gone, it’s done. We’ll put ourselves into the next game and build on our mistakes from this game. Forget about it for tonight and celebrate another year of playing the best sport in the world.” Alex finishes with his usual enthusiasm, the team claps and dramatically whistles in response.

Honest to god, it’s moments like this Nicky remembers why Alex is the captain of this team. Locking eyes with Alex moments later as he walked down the aisle, Nicky feels like he’s in highschool again. He feels stupidly taken by Alex’s features and personality that had grown to charm him. He distantly wonders about Alex’s perception of him. Socially, Nicky had always seen himself as an introvert, fearing the safe distance he kept from a good amount of friends would mar his relationships. He really did care about his close ones it’s just that breaking those barriers was hard for himself. Alex was one of the first people to break the barriers he’d guarded so dearly. It wasn’t exhausting to be around Alex, if anything it was refreshing and always felt new.

The cheering had died down to an easy chatter among the team. Without preamble, Alex clambers over Nicky to reach the window seat next to him. Nicky groans as he’s intentionally pushed into the back of his seat by Alex’s ass. They get situated and before long they’re both comfortable with Alex’s head cushioned on Nicky’s shoulder.

“So.”

“So what?”

“So how about the goal I got for you in the third period? And I never told you about goals from the last game.” A smirk leaks onto Alex’s face.

Nicky thinks he couldn’t roll his eyes harder if he tried. But because Nicky knows Alex won’t be able to help himself, he closes his eyes and listens to Alex expressively murmur about his goals. It’s the easiest thing in the world to sit back and listen.

\-----

The walls of the house look like they’re vibrating just from standing on the front porch. The fleeting feeling of Alex’s fingertips on his hand sends shivers down Nicky’s spine that could possibly be blamed on the cold december air. Alex laughs lowly, brushing Nicky’s hand one last time, as he rings the pineapple shaped doorbell. Impatient, Nicky swats his hand away and opens the door. A lighthearted,thumping electronic song flourishes throughout the house which is not only swimming with music but with a wide array of partiers and the smell of cheap beer. Nicky grasps Alex’s hand and steers them in the direction of the kitchen to either find some teammates or pick up a drink. The persistent heat from Alex’s hand counters the clamminess of Nicky’s fingers and sets his hand on fire. It’s probably the heat of the crowded house. 

Nicky squeezes out of the kitchen with a lukewarm Yuengling in his right hand and his phone in his left. Alex had parted from him in the kitchen with a promise to find him after he was significantly less sober. It almost sounded ominous but Nicky just laughed. Kuzy had appeared in the kitchen halfway to wasted with a bottle of liquor in hand so Nicky figured he was in good company. For as much as Kuzy acted childish, his maturity put Alex’s to shame. Nicky figures he’ll loosely keep tabs on Alex and locate a teammate to hang around with. He sure as hell isn’t a talker in the first place, parties not exactly his cup of tea. Luckily, he catches sight of Laich chatting with Andre at the lip of the next room and wanders over to them. Laich had always been sociable and friendly to everyone he met, Nicky could recognize a standup guy when he saw one. Maybe this night won’t drag on as he had expected. 

\-----

By 11:00, Nicky migrates to the living room to hopefully grab a comfortable seat for later when the ball drops. The rooms occupancy has waned from earlier, many people moving to the backyard to watch the hosts set off fireworks. Nicky rounds around to the couch where he finds Tom, Mike, and Nate wasted and yelling about the movie currently playing on the TV across from the couch. He scrubs Mike’s hair and sits next to him on the arm of the chair. A joint travels it’s way from a couple of partiers on the floor up to couch and between Nate and Mike. Nate glances at Nicky and politely offers him a hit before himself. Nicky politely refuses, taking a sip of his beer instead. Nate nods while Tom chuckles, likely long gone way before Nicky’s appearance.

“You sure, papa? This one ain’t lasting much longer,” Tom says in a drawl.

“I’m good. It’s not much of anything at this point anyway,” Nicky sniffs in faux distaste. Usually he’d scold about smoking but it’s new years. And their functioning adults. 

Nate inhales dutifully, holding his breath with watery eyes before he lets the smoke snake out of his mouth and into the room. He cracks one of his blinding smiles that reaches his eyes as he carefully hands the pitiful looking blunt to Mike who looks more bored than buzzed or high. 

“You know what would make tonight, like, a bazillion times better?” Mike declares out almost rhetorically.

“Loaded curly fries.” Tom and Nate say in unison. Tom reaches over the ledge of the couch to fist bump Nate on the floor.

“Loaded curly fries.” Mike nods before raising the remains to his lips and inhaling. 

Nicky smirks, remembering the couple of rare times he had smoked when he was younger. In all honesty, he was the type to get a paranoid high which wasn’t worth the actual high. Turning to the rest of the house, he people watches for some time. Nicky zones out for a couple minutes, thinking of everything and nothing at once. Thoughts of the rest of the season, the almost gone ache in his wrist, of Alex.

It always came back to Alex.

Nicky, for the most part, wasn’t a go getter in most aspects of life. He had his moments on the ice, sure, but off the ice he lived his life believing in the continuity of the universe. Everything happened and the world spun on. That’s where Alex wound chaotically into his life; Alex got what he wanted, he fought against continuity, and he made life interesting.

Why was it so hard to tell him how he felt?

\-----

Nicky’s responsible decision making had left him the minute he walked away from the living room and into the dining room where Laich roped him into doing a couple shots. Two shots turned to three, three to five, and so on. By the time Nicky left the dining room to take a leak, his stoic composure had dissolved along with his self preservation. 

“Ohmygod,” Nicky mutters, staring in the bathroom mirror and tucking his hair behind his ears. 

The door of the bathroom creaks as he swings it open, a clock hanging on the wall next to an upstairs staircase read 11:53 PM.

Nicky frowns and walks back to the dining room with renewed urgency, spotting Kuzy as he enters the dining room where a majority of the caps had congregated. As Nicky approaches, Kuzy throws his head back with an obnoxious laugh as Dmitry giggles Russian into his ear over the din of the party. 

“Kuzy! Kuz, have you seen Alex?”

“Da, I was with him just now,” Kuzy wipes his tears with the collar of his shirt.

“Well, where is he?” Nicky was growing exasperated. 

“Upstairs, in porch,” Kuzy pours himself a shot of the clear liquor in his hand and sets the bottle on the counter behind him. He pats Nicky’s shoulder and delivers a weak wink.

“Go get the tiger!”

Nicky blushes beneath the flush of his face, the actual meaning of the phrase not lost on him. He’d talk to him later about it but the alcohol in his system combined with the approach of midnight insisted he find Alex.  


“Thanks, see you,” Nicky mutters as he turns tail and makes it for the stairs. The clock reads 11:57 PM as he begins climbing the stairs at an alarming speed. Once at the top, Nicky walks down the hallway, looking for a room that could have a balcony. Almost immediately, Nicky locates a master suite with an open set of glass doors. The room is freezing and a shiver rakes down Nicky’s spine. The red of Alex’s red sweatshirt stands out against the dark railing he’s leaning against. Nicky walks up beside him without preamble and leans on the railing and into Alex’s shoulder. 

“Oh, there you are.” Alex whispers to no one in particular. Nicky looks up to find Alex staring into the dark night. He uncharacteristically smells nothing of alcohol, baffling Nicky and rendering him silent for a moment.

“Hey, what’s wrong, you ok?” He turns his body so he’s fully facing Alex, taking hold of his captain’s forearm. Nicky never was tactile with words and his swimming head is making him downright blunt.

“You are here, I am now,” Alex tugs his arm, taking Nicky with him and wrapping his arms around Nicky’s waist. Typically, Nicky would pull away at the instance of any pda.

This was not a regular situation.

The clock on Nicky’s phone in his pocket reads 11:59 PM.

Alex pulls away abruptly and takes Nicky by his shoulders, their eyes locking intensely. Nicky’s breath catches in his throat. Alex opens his mouth to speak, instead of his voice Nicky is bombarded with the screech of fireworks filling the winter air. They’re eyes unlock to observe the explosions of color that saturate the sky. Nicky’s wracked with shivers onset by the chilling temperature and the beauty before him. After the initial wonder of the fireworks wears off, Nicky turns to find Alex staring at him.

“Nicky.”

“Alex.”

“I want us to be real.” 

Nicky’s heart stops. He stares at Alex, into his deep brown eyes illuminated in the porch light. Nicky can’t take his eyes off of him. 

“Alex, what do you mean?” 

Nicky holds his breath. He’s praying to any god there is that he’s heard Alex right. 

“Nicky, I want you for me. I want to call you mine. I can’t play games anymore,” Nicky could swim forever in the depth of Alex’s brown eyes. He could drown in them. 

“...Get over here.” Nicky wraps his arms around Alex and holds him close, inhaling his everything. Alex stiffens in the unclear message of the gesture. “Of course, you dumbass.” Nicky whispers into Alex’s ear before burying his face into Alex’s chest.

He ignores Alex’s shocked reaction, lifting his arms around Alex’s neck and sinking deep, deep into the warmth of Alex’s mouth. Alex reciprocates willingly, turning his head to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into Nicky’s mouth. Nicky moans as Alex places a hand in his hair and scratches his scalp. The shivers return to Nicky’s body, crashing over him tenfold from temperature and emotion. Alex breaks the kiss and wraps himself around Nicky’s body. 

“Shh. Come inside, you forgot your jacket, stupid.” 

Nicky halfheartedly punches Alex’s chest, chuckling with watery eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! You can me find me at nateschmidty on tumblr


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